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The tavern didn’t exactly have a closing time, but eventually everyone with a home to return to would leave and those without would count up their remaining coins for a room, or at least a bed. Some night, like tonight, the place cleared out early and Elyan had it all to himself for as long as he liked.
He’d arrived to this town more than a month ago and had been working at the tavern in exchange for a room ever since. The room wasn’t work the amount of labour, but it was better than nothing, and it wasn’t meant to be for the long-term, anyway.
Some day, hopefully soon, Elyan would move on to the next town. And then the next. And probably the next, ever in search of a place that felt like home without the baggage of Camelot. He was beginning to think such a place didn’t exist, couldn’t exist, but he wasn’t ready to give up. Not just yet.
A loud clap right in his face snapped Elyan out of his thoughts. He’d been wiping down the tavern tables, and he hadn’t noticed the stray patron come in. Clearly the man had not appreciated the lack of a proper greeting.
“Apologies,” Elyan said, draping the rag over his shoulder. “What can I get for you?”
“Ale,” the man grunted as he sat down. “Make it quick.”
Elyan complied, returning a moment later with the drink. The man wasn’t one of the tavern regulars, and Elyan was sure he’d never seen him elsewhere around the town, either.
“Will you be needing a room?” Elyan asked. There was only one left, and the tavern owner wouldn’t forgive Elyan if he let it go for anything less than the full price.
The man only grunted in response as he downed most of his ale in one go. Rather than wait for the order, Elyan went to get the man a second tankard.
“Good lad,” the man said when Elyan set it down at his table. “This place yours?”
“I wish.”
The man gave a weak snort of a laugh before gulping down his second round. Elyan returned to wiping down tables, hoping the man wouldn’t stay too late. He’d lost so much sleep over the past month, forced to stay up as part of his duties while the owner retired well before the last of the usual patrons cleared out.
“How far to Camelot?” the man asked.
“At least two days. Less if you’ve got a horse.”
“I do, but he’s pulling quite the weight.”
For a brief moment, Elyan thought the man might be making a joke about his own weight. Then he saw the cruel twinkle in the man’s eye and knew he was insinuating something less innocuous.
“Gold?” Elyan asked politely.
The man laughed, slapping his hands on the table. “No, but she’ll fetch me plenty of that when I get to Camelot.”
“Game?”
“Do I look like a huntsman to you?”
“Could be.”
The man smirked. “What I’ve got is far more valuable. Especially to Uther Pendragon.”
His meaning was abundantly clear. He’d captured some poor magic user and was transporting them to Camelot in exchange for a reward from the king. Uther would likely execute whoever it was. And this man would probably carry on, searching out other sorcerers he could turn in for his own gain.
“How did you manage to capture someone who can escape with a snap of their fingers?”
“There’s lots of different kinds of magic out there. What I’ve got can’t fight back very well.” At that, the man roared with laughter.
Elyan forced a smile. “Will you be needing a room?”
“How safe are the woods?”
“What?”
The man gestured towards the door. “The woods. Are there bandits in these parts?”
“Not that I’ve ever seen.”
“Good. Then I’ll take that room. After you bring me another ale.”
“Right away.”
After several more ales and a lot of haggling, Elyan finally collected the man’s coin and brought him up to the last available room in the tavern. The man grumbled drunkenly that it didn’t look worth the money but didn’t argue the point as he sat on the rickety bed.
Elyan waited dutifully for him to slump down onto the pillow and pass out. Then, he crept across the room and unhooked a ring of keys from the man’s belt. As quietly and quickly as he could, Elyan retreated, closed the door, and made a run for the woods.
The man hadn’t hidden his tumbril very well. Elyan found it easily, even in the dark. The horse gave Elyan a long look but didn’t make any noise as he approached.
At first, it seemed the tumbril was empty. There was various debris in it, but nothing resembling a sorcerer.
Then Elyan heard the sniffling.
“Hello?” he whispered.
The lump in the far corner, which Elyan had taken to be rags, gasped.
“I’m here to help,” Elyan said. He circled the tumbril, squinting in the dark to try to see exactly what he was dealing with.
“Go away,” same a soft, hapless voice.
“I’m here to help,” he said again. “Please. Let me help you.”
“You need to go,” the voice said, a little louder.
“I’m not leaving you in this thing.”
There was a pause, and finally the man’s prisoner lifted her head. She was young and ragged thin. She clasped the bars of the tumbril and looked out at Elyan like he was the one worth pitying.
“Please,” she said. “Go.”
“It’s alright. Your kidnapper is drunk and asleep in my tavern. I want to help.”
“Is it midnight?”
“Nearly.”
“Then you need to go.”
Elyan shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“How are you going to get me out?”
“I’ve got the keys.”
The woman was silent for a long moment. “Hurry,” she finally said. “We’re running out of time.”
Elyan didn’t know what that meant, but he rounded the back of the tumbril and tried the different keys until he found one that fit the padlock. The door creaked open, and the horse gave an offended snort.
Elyan had expected the woman to make a quick run for it, but she stayed put, watching him warily.
“It’s alright,” Elyan said. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.”
When she still didn’t move, Elyan hoisted himself up into the tumbril. She recoiled, pressing herself back against the bars of the cage.
“What’s your name?” Elyan asked.
“Freya,” she said quietly.
“I’m Elyan.”
“Thank you, Elyan. If you value your life, you will leave. Now.”
“Why?”
“Because it is almost time.”
“Time?”
Freya smiled ruefully. “Do you not know why Halig captured me?”
“You’re a sorcerer,” Elyan said with a shrug. “Sorceress, I suppose.”
“If that were true, wouldn’t I have been able to escape on my own?”
“Why did he capture you, then?”
Freya glanced up at the sky. “There is magic in me.” For a moment, she left it at that. Then, “At midnight, I turn into a horrible blood-thirsty beast. If you do not leave, I cannot guarantee you will live to see dawn.”
She said it with such solemnity that a shiver ran down Elyan’s spine. “I...”
“I’m asking you to leave.”
“Will you come back?”
“What?”
“After that man—after Halig is gone, will you come back? I work at the tavern, I can get you food and drink and a bed.”
Freya stared at him. “Did you not hear—”
“Yes, but it doesn’t sound like it lasts. You’re not a blood-thirsty monster now, and presumably you won’t be one tomorrow, either.”
“No,” Freya agreed quietly.
“So come back. Let me help you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time, too. No one has ever kidnapped me, but…”
Freya looked up at the sky again. “We’re running out of time.”
Elyan lowered himself out of the tumbril. “Will you come back?”
Freya nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said.
She got unsteadily to her feet and made her way to the door, where Elyan held out a hand to help her down to the ground. She held it for a moment, giving Elyan a long, searching look.
“Thank you,” she said, and then she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
The warmth lingered as she walked away from the tumbril, disappearing into the night.
When she was no longer in sight, no longer discernible amongst the trees, Elyan relocked the tumbril. He made his way back to the tavern and up to Halig’s room, where he slipped the keys back onto his belt.
He retired to his own room and spent a long time laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, hoping Freya was doing alright. Out in the woods at midnight. Alone. Blood-thirsty monster or not, she might well be in danger. Perhaps not from other nocturnal creatures, but from those like Halig.
Elyan had done what he could, though. If she kept her word and returned to the town on her own accord, he would do more. He would feed her everything the tavern had to offer, ensure she wasn’t thirsty, and give her his own bed to rest in. Even if she couldn’t sleep in it at night, he hoped she wouldn’t object to a mid-day nap.
He hoped she would come back.
He hoped he could make her feel safe.
He hoped she might kiss his cheek again.
He hoped she was alright.